


Hook and Line

by tygermine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, dramione summerlove 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has won a cruise!<br/>Only, how is it a cruise when there's only two passengers, and one of them is a Malfoy?</p><p>Written for the 2013 Dramione Summerlove Challenge on LJ</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hook and Line

**Hook and Line**

Hermione stumbled to the window, where an owl had been tapping incessantly for the past half an hour. It was too early on a Saturday morning for this.

She fumbled with the latch and opened it, allowing the owl to fly into her room. It settled on her chest of drawers, knocking over perfume bottles and framed photos. Hermione quickly released the note and shooed the bird back out into the cold before locking the window and diving back under the covers.

She dropped the note on the ground next to her bed and attempted to fall back asleep.

As she felt herself sinking back into her dream, there was a pop and whistle from next to her bed. Peering over the duvet, she watched as the note let off a burst of glitter before folding itself into a face.

“Congratulations! You have won an all expenses paid cruise around the Indian Ocean! Thank you for entering and enjoy your trip! Details to follow.”

With that, it popped out of existence.

Hermione blinked a few times, checked the clock, and, with a groan, rolled back over and into sleep.

 

***

Sunday morning dawned bright and early, the spring weather melting away the crisp night breeze.

Ginny met Hermione in Regent’s Park, carrying a frothy chocolaty confection from the Café Nero on Parkway Avenue.

“I still don’t understand how you can go for a run after consuming that,” Hermione grouched. She wasn’t the best morning person to deal with. Besides, she could feel her thighs expanding just by looking at the frosty cup in Ginny’s hand.

With a few more obnoxious slurps, Ginny finished it off and tossed the cup into a nearby bin before setting her foot on a low wall to start stretching.

“What can I say? I needed a sugar boost,” she grinned. She hopped around for a few seconds and set off, swatting Hermione’s bum on her way. “Come on, lazy bones.”

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione chased after Ginny, catching up with her after a few meters.

They ran in silence, each woman in her own thoughts, processing them before filing them away for later. It usually took five minutes for the mental quiet to settle in. That was Hermione’s favourite part of jogging. In fact, it was the only part she enjoyed. The shin splints, blisters, heavy sweating, and sore chest from jiggling boobs were the parts she hated.

After about ten minutes, she spoke up. “Ginny?”

“Uh huh?” The other witch huffed and puffed beside her.

“I…uh…won a trip,” she replied, huffing and puffing.

Ginny stopped dead. “You what?”

Hermione came to a stop and bent over, hands on knees, trying to catch her breath. “I got an owl the other night. Said I’d won a cruise on the Indian Ocean.”

“Congratulations.” Ginny began jogging on the spot before taking off at a steady pace again.

“Thing is,” Hermione continued as she caught up with her friend, “I don’t recall entering a competition. I never enter competitions.”

“Maybe it was a random draw of Ministry employees?”

“I quit six months ago, remember?”

“Guess they didn’t update the list then. When are you going?”

“I’m to await further details,” Hermione said in a mock posh voice.

“If it’s transferable, I’ll totally take it off your hands. I need a vacation.” Ginny huffed on, dodging a rollerblader. “Who rollerblades these days?”

“Watch out for the—“

A cyclist clipped Ginny’s elbow, knocking her off her feet. “Oi! Go get hit by a bus!” she shouted at the cyclists departing form. “Wanker,” she muttered darkly.

“See? I keep telling you this jogging thing is dangerous.”

“It seems worth it when I don’t have to buy bigger jeans.”

And that, right there, they both acknowledged as the real reason they tortured themselves on a weekly basis.

***

That Monday morning, still a little stiff from her recent attempt at keeping fit, Hermione strolled into her office on the top floor of Nesbit & Coutts Attorneys at Law.

Her assistant, Clive, was practically buzzing with excitement in his seat as she walked passed. She paused and reversed two steps.

“Good morning Clive,” she said cautiously, hoping he would not spontaneously combust where he sat.

“You won a cruise! You won a freaking cruise! That is so exciting!” His voice pitched up towards the end to an octave only dogs could hear. Hermione winced.

“Um, yes, thank you. Where are the—“

“I only know because a messenger brought this package and it’s marked with cruise logos and you totally won a cruise!” Again, his voice reached sonic levels.

“And despite that, I am still at work. Now what’s on today’s agenda?”

Clive visibly deflated and pulled Hermione’s schedule out from under his stack of computer and fitness magazines.

She had once made the mistake of asking why he read computer magazines when he didn’t own one. He’d an odd look on his face as if to say, _well, why would that stop me?_

Clive was part of the post-war generation, the group of young wizards and witches who embraced Muggle technology with a special kind of fervour. It was a love-hate relationship really, as their inherent magic fried the circuits almost as soon as they neared a laptop. Clive had once told Hermione that somewhere, someday, one of his magazines would hold the answer to their problem.

The fitness magazines he kept because, as he had told Hermione very seriously one time, everyone should spend at least five minutes of their day staring at a hot man.

“We have a partners’ meeting in an hour, depositions until lunchtime, and then there’s this shindig happening at the Savoy for the French office.”

“Shindig at the Savoy?”

“Cocktail dress required. Magical entrance through the office Floo in the basement.”

“Bugger,” Hermione grouched. She’d clean forgotten about the merger party and had planned to spend her evening catching up on some smutty goodness she’d found in a second hand bookstore in Islington.

Clive passed the cruise package to her while rattling off about how he had known she’d forget, and how he had asked some friend of his who owned a recreational pharmaceutical business but dabbled in fashion design, just in case that ever went bust, to bring over some dresses.

Hermione nodded along, not really listening, and retreated into her office. She had a special love for the way it had floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked Somerset House and the Embankment.

She had shelves lining the walls, all of them buckling under the tomes resting on them. The books covered every subject imaginable, from wizarding law to Muggle law to magical precedents in both, but there were some vinyl records tucked in between. There was an old wind-up record player that sat on a small table beside the shelves, almost hidden in a corner. When Hermione was the last one in the office, working on those all important case-breaking details, she would put on a record and let the music chase away the silence. Her collection was a replica of her parents’ own collection, which they had played to her endlessly as she was growing up.

Her desk was in fact three desks pushed together in a U-shape, and every inch was covered in documents, quills, pencils, ballpoint pens, reference books. In one corner, sat a framed picture collage of her and her friends at various functions.

Hermione took a seat, tossing the cruise package towards the edge of her desk and pulled her meeting notes closer. The partners kept a close eye on the caseload and wanted daily updates.

As she read through the pages, trying to memorise the details while making notes to follow up on, her eyes kept being drawn to the logo on the package. It showed a cruise ship with a setting sun behind it and a palm tree bending into the frame. All very modern and abstract, and yet completely distracting.

She threw down her pen in agitation and grabbed the package. She shook it and heard something rattle around inside. With a last glance at her notes, she ripped open the lid and grabbed at whatever was lying in the box.

Hermione had precisely three seconds to process that she was holding a plastic model cruise ship in her hand before the Portkey activated and she disappeared.

***

Draco Malfoy was leaning over the edge of a rickety wooden dhow, feeding the fish with his breakfast when Hermione Granger appeared on the deck.

“What?” she exclaimed, legs wobbling on the wood.

Draco looked up and over his shoulder at the witch. “What?” he snapped

Hermione’s eyes bugged. “What?” she echoed.

“What?” He pushed himself away from the edge where he had been trying to fight off seasickness.

“What?” She had regained her balance and stood firmly now, arms akimbo.

“What?” he managed before gagging and turning back to hang over the side.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Hermione wobbled her way over to Draco and poked him on the shoulder.

“Sick being the operative word.” Draco managed to gasp before losing the last of his stomach contents.

“Malfoy, what have you done?”

The ice in her words froze his insides, but then anger set in, heating those same insides until molten. “ _Me?_ ,” he exclaimed. “What have _I_ done? Why is it always assumed that I’ve done something?”

He had managed to turn back and lean against the side of the boat, looking for all the world as pitiful as he felt.

Hermione just raised an eyebrow.

“Isn’t there some statute on stupid shit done in school?”

She shook her head.

“Then I’m obviously being punished. Karma, you bitch.” He drunkenly waved his fist at the sky.

“This is ridiculous!” Hermione threw up her arms in exasperation.

“Bit of an understatement if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

Draco shrugged while looking out over the water. ”Where do you think we are?”

“Do I look like a tour guide?” she snapped.

“Ah, I know the answer to this. Five hundred pounds for the subject PMS, thanks Nige.”

Hermione’s glare could have set him on fire. ”This is not the cruise I won.”

“Cruise?” Draco huffed a laugh. “Definitely a whole new definition for it.”

“How can you laugh? We’re lost in the middle of the ocean in a wooden boat.”

“Dhow.”

“What?”

“It’s a dhow, commonly used on the east coast of Africa for fishing.”

“How do you even know that?”

“You’re not the only one who reads.”

Hermione huffed in annoyance.

“Also, that Muggle Travel Channel is quite addictive.”

She ignored him and began looking around at the ocean stretching out on every side of them. Not a piece of land in sight. She dipped her hand into the water. It was freezing.

“Must be the Atlantic,” she muttered before remembering that Great White Sharks inhabited the cold waters of the Atlantic and quickly moving to the centre of the boat.

“Where’s your wand?” she asked Draco, who hadn’t moved other than to stretch out his legs, throw his head back and soak up the sun, his seasickness subsiding to an acceptable uneasy nausea.

“Back in my office. The Portkey activated so suddenly, I didn’t get to grab it.”

“Me too,” she said, sitting on some coiled up rope. “Who would do this to us?”

“Well, last I heard, you became a lawyer, so I’d say the list is endless.”

“Like you don’t have half the wizarding world baying for your blood,” she snapped.

“Like I care. Needed a holiday anyway.”

“You need to buy a dictionary. Your definitions are really off.”

“Holiday. Definition: sitting on your arse, doing nothing but soaking up the sun. Could do with a cocktail or two.”

“We need to get back home,”

“If we must. How good is your Astronomy?”

“It’s okay, if somewhat rusty.”

“Then, I recommend you find a cosy spot and wait ‘til the stars come out. Maybe we can figure out where we are.”

She settled further into the coiled rope and crossed her arms. She might be missing the soiree, but being stuck in a boat with Malfoy was definitely not the lesser of two evils.

After five minutes, she got restless. “Why aren’t you in a hurry to get back?”

Draco cracked open an eye. “I have my reasons. But I see this as a gift horse, and I’m not looking into its mouth.”

“This is so stupid. Like the plot from some ridiculous movie that Tom Hanks would make.” She looked around to make sure there wasn’t a basketball lying nearby. “I can’t sit around not doing anything until the sun sets.”

“You could tan topless.”

Hermione scoffed. “We should be figuring out who wants us both dead.”

Draco just arched an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Draco shrugged and went back to his sunbathing.

Hermione shuffled to get a bit more comfortable in the rope seat and began mentally drawing up a list of potential suspects.

Of course there were the obvious choices – criminals she’d sent to Azkaban, swearing revenge as they were carted off. The question that she couldn’t answer, was what connection they had with Malfoy to cause him to land in ­ _literally_ the same boat as her.

“Malfoy,” she kicked at him when he didn’t answer. “Malfoy!”

He groaned before turning his head towards her and cracking open his eyes.

“Fuck off Granger; can’t a wizard sunbathe in peace?”

“Because catching a tan is the most important thing right now, unlike our imminent death.”

“Glad to see you have your priorities in order.” He squinted up at the sky, his right hand shielding the worst of the glare. “What I wouldn’t give for a pair of sunglasses right now.”

“Malfoy, focus! Who do we both know that wants us dead?”

Draco shrugged, scratched his nose and began undoing his cloak. Hermione averted her eyes, looking up instead at the sail as it hung, limp, from the small mast, the soft breeze barely stirring it.

She looked back when she heard a comfortable sigh.

Draco had stripped down to his trousers, kicking off his shoes, throwing his socks overboard and shedding his shirt. He lay back again and closed his eyes.

“Y—you...” Hermione’s mouth was suddenly very dry and the temperature must have rocketed as her clothes felt very hot and itchy.

He ignored her, stretching his arms above his head, causing his torso to flex and bend. Hermione’s vision blurred for a second. Then she turned away.

He was obviously not going to lift a finger to get them out of this mess, so she was going to be stuck doing the heavy lifting, as usual.

“Do you think there’s any water on board?” Draco asked lazily.

“Haven’t you looked around yet?”

“Let’s review. Portkey, seasickness, sunbathing. Nope, no time for investigating.”

“How you lived as long as you have is a mystery.” She pushed herself up from the coiled rope and began walking carefully along the deck. She hadn’t realised it, but they were in the front of the boat. Astern or something like that. Moby Dick had put Hermione off nautical terms in general. Behind them was a low roof with small windows coming out of the floor. Walking around it, she came across stairs that lead down into the small cabin.

There was a double bed and a tiny cubicle which held a toilet and shower. Next to the bed were three large plastic cooler boxes. One contained bottles of water, the other beer and the last one plastic tubs with fresh fruit. In a small chest lay pots, pans and a bag of rice. She grabbed two bottles of water and headed back up to the deck.

She threw a bottle of water at Malfoy, who effortlessly caught it – damned Seeker training.

“There’s no radio, no maps, nothing. Just water, beer, and fruit. It’s like whoever planned this expected us to be here for a while.” Hermione squinted out at the horizon

“If there’s beer, why bother with the water?” He gulped the water down regardless.

“Out of all that, you only pick out that there’s beer? I’m beginning to understand why anyone would want you stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

Malfoy got up in a fluid movement and stepped towards her, forcing her to look up at his face as being eye level with his chest was far too…distracting.

“Now listen up Granger, and listen closely. You are going to stop complaining. You are going to enjoy a beer or two with me. You are going to enjoy the sunset and then, once the stars are out and we can chart where we are, we will set a course. Until then, pull that stick out of your arse. You’re ruining my holiday.”

He stepped past her and went down into the cabin.

“Which cooler box has the…ah, never mind,” she heard him call from below deck.

She was speechless. Did he just tell her off, like a child? Hermione scrambled to the entrance to the cabin as he came up the stairs.

“How dare ypmfff—”

“Okay, another rule. If you open your mouth to talk, I’m going to kiss it,” said Draco once he pulled away. He licked his lips. “Yes, much better than listening to you prattle on.”

He tilted his beer bottle towards her in a mock salute before sliding past her, back to his seat in the sun.

Hermione’s brain had filled with static very similar to that of a TV that can’t find a signal. The noise filled her ears, and she began to feel rather dizzy. She sank onto the top step of the cabin entrance and put her head between her knees.

This was not happening. She was obviously having a very bad dream. She did not win a cruise, she did not get Portkey’d to the middle of nowhere, and she sure as hell did not get kissed by Draco Malfoy.

“If you’re coming back, another beer would be great,” Draco called from his seat.

That did it.

She stood up, grabbed a nearby tin mug, and threw it at him from across the cabin.

It hit him in the chest.

“That’s not very nice Granger.” He frowned, placing the mug on the deck next to him.

“How on earth are you lying there, drinking beer when a few minutes ago you were seasick? This is not a game, not some easy vacation, Malfoy. We are shipwrecked!”

With a sigh, Draco drained his beer, stood up from his seat, sauntered over to the hysterical witch, placed his hands on her face, and kissed her.

She pushed away from him. “Stop that!” She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

“I did warn you,” he said and pushed past her, back into the cabin to retrieve another beer.

“You’re despicable.”

“And you’re a fucking pain in the arse. Have a beer and relax.”

“Our lives are in danger, Malfoy. We need to get home.”

“In danger from what, exactly? Besides me wanting to throttle you every time you open your mouth.”

“We could hit a storm or pirates or a tidal wave.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” He chuckled at her. “Besides, if any pirates show up, we’ll parlay, share some rum, have a sing song, and get them to show us the way back to Ol’ Blighty.”

Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. Without really assessing the consequences, she pushed him overboard.

***

The sun was beginning to set in an explosion of reds, oranges and purples. Hermione was sitting on the cabin roof, under the shade netting strung up as an upper roof, watching the sun go down, and trying to ignore Malfoy who was standing at the very front point of the boat, holding on to a rope suspended from the mast, singing pirate songs with a beer in his hand.

For some reason, the cooler boxes holding the beer and water were enchanted to keep refilling.

And Draco was drunk.

Hermione had taken off as much as she thought was proper, and was scratching at the cotton pencil skirt that itched. She had a button-up white shirt with only the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. Her shoes, stockings and jacket were lying on the bed. She sipped on her bottle of water, eager for the stars to come out and wishing Draco would take another tumble into the icy water.

The brat didn’t even have the courtesy of being upset once he came back on-board. Instead he wore a stupid grin, his beer bottle held aloft and bragged.

“Not a drop, Granger. I didn’t spill a drop.”

She’d rolled her eyes and pointedly ignored him as he climbed all over the dhow, exclaiming when he found some fishing rods and a ragged jolly roger flapping pathetically around the mast.

The sun hovered on the horizon for a few seconds before disappearing. Hermione left her seat and stood at the back of the boat looking up at the sky.

“Bugger,” she swore softly. “Fucking buggering hell!”

“Arrr,” Draco crowed in her ear.

She jumped in surprise and swatted him in the chest. “Wanker,” she snapped.

“What has the dearie in such despair?” Draco put on an exaggerated pirate accent.

“Besides your pathetic attempt at being Long John Silver?”

“I prefer to be Dracus Silveretti, _argh_.” He smiled and winked at her.

“Let me guess, a pirate ancestor?”

“Don’t be daft wench, no self-respecting Malfoy would ever dream of being a pirate.”

“Besides you?”

“Never said I was self-respecting,”

“Whatever, Malfoy. Go _argh_ elsewhere, I’ve got work to do.” She looked up at the sky.

“We’re not in the Northern Hemisphere,” he said quietly, standing very close to her.

“No, we’re not. And I have a really bad suspicion that we’re in the Equatorial Doldrums. Without an engine, there’s no way we’ll get anywhere until monsoon season brings the winds, and that could be months from now! I can’t spend months on a boat with you!”

Draco’s mouth tightened slightly. “And what’s so wrong spending some time on a boat with me?” he asked quietly.

“I have to go to work. I have depositions!” She purposely avoided his question.

With a nod, he retreated to his spot at the point of the boat, sitting with his legs dangling over the side.

With a roll of her shoulders, she went back to examining the sky. She easily found the Southern Cross, Orion’s belt, and the Evening Star. She saw the lights of transatlantic flights blinking as they flew over. She blinked back tears.

This was the worst cruise. Ever.

***

“I think we’re close to the Caribbean,” Malfoy mused as he lay on the shade cover, soaking up the sun. His usual creamy complexion had taken on a pink tinge.

“You’re going to get sunburnt if you stay up there.” Hermione sat in the shade below him, fiddling with one of the fishing rods.

“I haven’t been to the Caribbean before. I hear there are proper pirates there. And cocktails. Lots of cocktails.”

Hermione accidentally stabbed her index finger on a fishing hook. “Wanker,” she muttered, continuing to fiddle with the line and hook.

“Or maybe we’re close to Africa. That would be surreal. All the animals and the savannah.”

“I don’t recall you being a big fan of animals.”

Dammit, she’d been doing such a good job at ignoring him. He’d slept out on the deck while she took the bed in the cabin. Her nose was starting to peel from the sun while Malfoy barely began to burn. In fact, she was sure he was beginning to tan. She had looked at her own milky legs in dismay. She didn’t tan. She’d go tomato red, cry in agony when she moved, then go back to being pale.

“Well, I’ve had a change of heart when it comes to them in general.”

A silence fell over the gently rocking boat, punctuated every now and then by a muttered curse word as Hermione continued to fiddle with the fishing line.

After a while, she crowed in success and scuttled to a shaded spot on the side of the boat, throwing the line in, hoping for a bite.

“Granger, you’re doing it wrong.” Malfoy sighed, heaving himself off the shade cover to the spot where she sat.

“What do you know about fishing?” She glared at him.

“Enough to know you’re not going to get a bite like that.”

“People have been fishing since the dawn of time like this. I think the evidence is in my favour on this.”

He huffed a laugh and grabbed the rod from her, reeling in the line.

“Fish are like men; you can’t just hook them and reel them in. You need a lure.”

“Are you seriously comparing dating to fishing?”

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. “Look, fish need something sparkly to attract them. Just like women. They see something shiny and sparkling, and they want it until someone offers them a bigger shiny sparkly bauble. Then they throw the one you worked so hard to give them back at you, and they flounce off leaving your heart to be eaten by a shark, which will be a merciful end to the pain.”

During the speech, Draco had tied some beer bottle caps to the line and violently cast it.

Hermione decided that Malfoy was leaving her speechless far too often.

“You know what’s the worst part about sharing this boat with you, Malfoy?”

He frowned, concentrating on the line.

“You’re a complete stranger to me.”

 

***

There were two flaws in Hermione’s fishing plan.

The first was: who would clean and gut the fish in preparation for cooking?

The second was: who was going to cook the prepared fish?

Draco claimed that since Hermione was experienced with cooking like a Muggle, she should do the cooking.

The problem was, Hermione didn’t cook so much as microwave her meals. And that was on the rare occasions she actually ate at home.

Draco couldn’t cook anything without a wand.

In fact, it became abundantly clear that Draco could do very little without a wand, besides get drunk.

This resulted in a screaming match, a few sardines being flung around the boat and the entire afternoon’s catch being thrown back overboard.

Draco returned to his spot on the upper shade roof to drink and sulk.

***

The silence hung heavily over the boat. Mostly because Draco had drunk himself into a stupor, and was sleeping it off where he passed out – in the blazing equatorial sunshine.

Had Hermione been in a better mood, she would have at least thrown a towel over him.

But sympathy for the devil was only a song, and a sweaty, uncomfortable Hermione was not feeling magnanimous.

She eyed the water around them wearily. It wasn’t the icy blue it had been when they had arrived on the dhow. It had taken a more azure tone, almost welcoming.

Looking around, Hermione quickly shed her shirt and itchy skirt, and, with a rope tied around her waist connecting her to the boat, carefully climbed over the side.

The first shock of water was colder than she has expected, but it was instantly refreshing. She dove beneath the surface and opened her eyes to look around.

The ocean floor was obscured by the haziness that came with insane depths. Schools of fish swam below Hermione, swirling en masse in the currents.

She broke the surface, took a deep breath, and dove down again. Hermione was paranoid about sharks and kept looking for the tell-tale signs of sharp teeth and pointed fins.

There was a sudden splash beside her, causing her to scream and surface.

Spluttering with indignation, Hermione looked around for the cause of the disturbance.

He surfaced a few feet away.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Malfoy?” She began swimming towards the boat. He caught up with her at the steps at the rear of the boat.

“I needed to cool off.” He simply smiled at her, but it waned pretty quickly as he saw her calculating expression.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You were worried about me!”

“No, I wasn’t.” He hurriedly climbed the stairs into the boat.

Hermione followed. “Yes, you were worried about me.” She giggled. “I…that’s…sweet?”

“Not as sweet as that cute little number you’re wearing.”

Draco was leaning against the side of the cabin entrance, a leery grin on his face.

Hermione looked down in horror. She’d completely forgotten that she was in her undies, and not a swimsuit. Not that a she’d wear a swimsuit around Malfoy. Just…she had principles and dammit, why wasn’t he crying in agony about his hangover or sunburn.

She stalked over to him and poked a finger in his chest, right where the sunburn looked the most painful.

He hissed.

She poked him again. This time on the shoulder.

He hissed again.

She was going for a third poke when he grabbed her hand, twisted her arm around her back until she was pressed against him.

His glare was mercurial, menacing, and downright magnetic.

“Stop that,” he bit out.

“I’m not the idiot that got himself sunburnt.” Hermione tried to break out of the grip, but Draco was surprisingly strong.

“But you are the idiot poking the sunburn victim, and that is not a good idea.”

She felt his free hand land on her waist and run along the rope still wrapped around it. As she battled with her self-disgust at the goosebumps rising along her skin as his fingers undid the rope, her pride was taking a knock too.

As the rope slid to the floor, Hermione twisted in Draco’s embrace and pushed him away, running into the cabin, and slamming the saloon doors behind her.

Draco chuckled, his head giving a little shake as he grabbed a bottle of water and went to find a shady spot to relax.

He winced as the rough wood scraped against his skin. He was self-aware enough to admit to himself that he had indeed been an idiot to get sunburnt. But dammit, it was worth it.

He hadn’t felt this free in ages. If they ever found the parties responsible for this situation, he’d shake their hands, then stand back to watch Granger demolish them.

Draco loved being lost. No one was around making demands and having expectations of him. He loved being able to drink beer all day, lie in the sun, enjoy the soft breeze, and not worry about anything.

His thoughts drifted to the fuzzy haired witch banging around inside the cabin.

Why was she so upset about a little getaway? It wasn’t as if they were sinking or running out of water or food. In fact, this whole set up was rather luxurious.

When he couldn’t find her on the boat earlier, he had had a tiny panic attack. He had imagined that she’d fallen overboard, or that her anger had called up a kraken and it had devoured her.

Not that he cared about her per se, but it would have gotten very boring without having her around to tease.

And it was, dare he even think it, nice having her to spar with. Life since the end of the war had become one big public relations machine. Reputation, reputation, reputation. It was the all-consuming black hole that had become his life. Donate here, smile there, keep the insults to a minimum, and don’t piss off the Minister.

Marry the right girl. Pure-blood would do, but half-blood would show the world you really had changed.

But change was hard. Habits might form in seven days, but they stuck for years. Breaking them was even harder.

In a sense of misplaced nostalgia, Draco missed the days where he felt that his place in life was set and secure. Now he had to fight to forge a new place that was far from secure and set in a very different reality to what he imagined life would be as a child.

Not that he’d had the luxury of actually enjoying his childhood. He was raised to be a man. The heir of the Malfoy dynasty. A man doesn’t cry, even if he’s broken his arm. A man does not bow down to others, unless they are supernaturally evil nutcases. A man does not choose love. He chooses honour and duty.

A man does not get himself stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

Yes, well, Draco was a man in progress.

He stood up from his shady spot and went in search of more beers.

***

Hermione was furious. It was the kind of fury born of extreme embarrassment.

And why was she embarrassed?

Sodding Malfoy had seen her in her undies. And that could never, ever happen again.

So, since he was the cause of her embarrassment, she would damn well project her fury on him.

She had found a stack of towels in one of the small hatches in the cabin and stripped out of her soaking underwear. She wrapped the towel tightly around her body so it would not slip as she searched the other hatches for items of clothing.

All she’d found so far were some sarongs.

With a furious grumble, she tied the sarong around her upper chest, trying to cover as much skin as possible.

Mostly to prevent sunburn.

But if it meant Malfoy didn’t get anything to ogle at, even better.

Not that she considered herself ogle-able. Just, modesty was the better part of valour.

Or something like that.

She stomped up the cabin stairs, wet undies in hand. As she turned to step onto the deck, she walked straight into a solid chest.

With a growl, she shoved him away, making him stumble slightly before catching his balance.

Draco shrugged as he watched her move to the front of the boat and set up a washing line to dry her delicates.

He grabbed three beers and a bottle of water before joining her on the deck.

“You should rinse them with this first,” he said, holding out the bottle of water.

Hermione bit her tongue, she knew he was right, and it made her even angrier that she hadn’t thought of it herself.

She took the bottle from him and rinsed her underwear in the fresh water before hanging them up.

Draco had settled on the roof of the cabin, popping open two beers.

As she approached him to possibly retreat to the cabin below, he held out a beer.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes downcast, watching the proffered beer.

She hesitated before carefully taking the bottle with a nod and drinking down a few gulps.

“Truce?” He raised an eyebrow.

The beer cooled her anger slightly, and she realised that she was acting like a petulant teenager. Hell, if he hadn’t seen her undies before, they were right behind her, literally drying in the breeze.

She nodded.

He smiled and patted a spot on the cabin roof next to him.

She carefully climbed up and sat down, leaving a good few inches between them.

They sipped their beers.

***

Twilight had fallen, and there was a small collection of beer bottles growing at their feet.

“This is the stupidest game ever to be invented,” Draco was grouching as Hermione caught the top of his thumb and held it down for the count.

She crowed with delight and they started a new game of thumb wars.

“Tell me something.” Hermione watched their intertwined hands, her thumb ready and waiting for its next ambush.

“Why would I tell you anything?” His eyebrows barely rose. Draco was pretty drunk.

“Would you rather recite poetry?”

“ _Sometimes I think it’s like I live in a big giant head on a hilltop_  
made of papier maché, a big giant head of my own head.  
I polish the eyes which would be windows, or  
mow the lawn, I mean this is my house we’re talking about here  
even if it is a big giant papier mache head that looks just like mine.  
And people who go past   
in cars or buses or see the house the head on the hill from trains   
they think the house is me.”

“Eh?” The beer had obviously gotten to Hermione at this stage.

Draco shrugged. “Fine, what poetry can you recite?”

Hermione screwed up her eyes. “ _There once was a fella from Perth, who was born on the day of his birth. He was married they say, on his wife’s wedding day, and died when he quitted the earth.”_

She smiled widely when she finished.

Draco blinked.

“That’s absolutely awful,” he scoffed.

“Good thing I didn’t write it then.” She took an unsteady sip of her beer. “What about your poem? Who wrote it?”

Draco shrugged and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“It was _House_ by Neil Gaiman, okay?”

“That’s…a Muggle writer.”

“And your point is?”

Hermione realised she didn’t actually have a point. “We need to get off this boat,” she said.

“Once again, changing the subject when you’re speechless. You’re scarily easy to read.”

“Who said you can read me?”

“The sign on your head. Look at me and read me, I’m easier than a first year potions book.”

“You’re a wanker.” She scowled.

Draco huffed a laugh. “Come on Granger, why the rush to get back?”

“Because, unlike you, I have friends and family waiting for me. They’re probably worried sick.”

“Well then, smartest-witch-of-our-age, explain how you plan to get us back to civilisation.”

“We need to find land.” She got up and walked to the front of the boat, eyes gazing out at the horizon.

“We need some wind first,” he said, suddenly very close to her.

“Paddles! We can paddle our way to land.”

“First off, this dhow weighs a ton and secondly, which direction do you think we should go in?”

“Seagulls. We can follow the seagulls.”

“What seagulls?” Draco looked up at the open, cloudless sky.

“Dammit Malfoy, you’re being your usual unhelpful self!”

“I never claimed to be anything else.”

Hermione moved away from him; the invasion of her personal space had bordered on uncomfortable. A memory of his kisses flashed through her mind.

“I can’t not do anything. I have to try.” She hugged herself, a frown marring her features.

“Look, if it’s so important to you, we’ll figure something out.”

“If only we had our wands.”

Draco nodded in agreement.

A sudden, deafening roar broke the air.

They turned to each other wide-eyed.

“What?” Draco began, but was cut off by an explosion of seawater a couple of metres to their right.

The ocean churned and bubbled, boiled and hissed.

As they watched in amazement, a volcano rose out of the depths, sending up billows of steam into the stratosphere.

“Well, you wanted to find land!” he shouted over the bellowing noise.

“Not what I had in mind!” Hermione shouted in reply, grabbing on to the mast as the boat began to violently rock in the waves.

Giant tentacles rose out on either side of the volcano.

“I don’t think that’s a volcano,” Draco said, grabbing on to the mast, his body pressed against Hermione’s back, as if to shield her.

“Oh bloody hell, it’s a Kraken!” she cried.

The billowing, hissing, and violent waves kept the two preoccupied until a few minutes later, all turned silent.

Hermione was the first to notice, and she pushed herself out from underneath Draco’s shaking form.

A few meters from the boat was the Kraken, bobbing in the ocean, towering above them. It let out an ear-piercing shriek, slapped a few of its tentacles around before turning its eyes towards the little dhow.

“Erm…hello,” said Hermione.

The Kraken blinked. And then it let out a belly laugh that boomed through the air.

“Hello? Thousands of years I’ve terrorised the oceans and only now one of you puny little humans decide to say hello. Where are your weapons? I cannot fight you without weapons!”

Hermione stood there frozen. Draco was still hugging the mast as if it was a Portkey.

“Well? Speak up? My ears are still filled with the songs of the ocean.”

“Um…Hello,” she said.

“It squeaks! How delightful! Where are your weapons?”

“We, we don’t have any.”

The Kraken huffed in annoyance. “How stupid does one have to be to come sailing through my waters without a weapon? Do you have a death wish?”

“It’s not like we’re here by choice!” Hermione shouted, stomping her foot. “We were Portkey’d here without our consent and now we’re desperately trying to find a way home.”

“That’s not of my concern. Show me your weapons so that I may destroy your pathetic little vessel and be on my way. There’s a lovely cruise ship a few leagues out that is just asking for me to scare them. All overweight, red-skinned colonials. Most delicious.”

“I said we don’t have any weapons,” Hermione cried, looking over her shoulder at Draco. He had stepped away from the mast, but was staring up at the Kraken, his throat bobbing, mouth agape. She grabbed his elbow and pulled him to her side.

“Say something,” she hissed at him.

“And what, pray tell, must I say to a Kraken?”

“Whatever you do, don’t make it angr—angrier” she said, giving him a shove closer to the monster.

It eyed the bright blond. “You’ve got a nasty sunburn there.”

“I was enjoying a spot of sunbathing.”

“Show me your weapon.”

Draco began to undo his pants.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hermione screeched.

“I’ll have you know Granger, that my cock is a very virile weapon and should be approached with extreme caution!” He dropped his pants to his ankles.

The Kraken was momentarily stunned, before bursting into gales of laughter.

Draco blushed, but refused to pull up his pants.

“Your ego knows no bounds, does it, puny one?”

“You have no idea,” muttered Hermione, trying to keep her eyes on the Kraken despite their insistence on glancing at Draco’s crotch.

“So, you think your weapon will defeat me?”

“It’s defeated most of the female wizarding population.” Draco cocked a hip.

“I, inconsequential human, am no – wait…wizard? You can’t possibly be a wizard. No wizard worth his skills would allow himself to be shipwrecked in my territory!”

“Yes, well, shit happens.” Draco finally decided to pull up his trousers.

“You’ve shown me your weapon, now I can destroy your boat.” The Kraken lifted a few tentacles in preparation.

“Wait!” Hermione shouted. “This is utterly ridiculous. That was by no means a weapon. It was a…a…”

“Impressive sight.” Draco leaned close to her ear, whispering.

“Sod off.” She glared at him. “Kraken, we have not come here with any intentions of harm or mischief.”

Draco huffed a laugh. “Mischief is your middle name.”

She dug her elbow into his sternum, hard.

“We only ask that you leave us and our boat unharmed.”

The Kraken glared at Hermione. “Such insolence. How dare you ask that of me?”

“We present no threat to you,” Draco said.

“You’re in my territory!” The Kraken growled.

“We didn’t know!” Draco shouted back. “Look here! I’ve was Portkey’d to this dinghy without prior approval. I have no wand, no way of getting back. If you want to destroy this boat and us, go ahead. Just stop messing with us!”

Hermione clapped a hand over her eyes. Draco had just guaranteed their death.

“Calypso!” The Kraken cried. “Calypso, you nasty little bitch! Show yourself!”

Draco and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance.

“Calypso! Show yourself you scheming little wench!”

“Who the ‘ell are you calling a wench, you overdramatic squid!”

Draco and Hermione turned at the sound of the foreign voice. Standing on the shade roof of the dhow was a beautiful woman. She had a golden tan, red dreadlocks, tattoos covering most of her body, and, for decencies sake, some seaweed wrapped around her waist.

Draco smiled. “Being a pirate is brilliant!” he whispered to Hermione.

She rolled her eyes.

“Overdramatic squid? You’re losing your razor tongue in your old age.” The Kraken laughed and pointed a tentacle at Calypso.

“Why did you call me here, you insipid calamari?”

A tentacle pointed downwards at the couple on the dhow. “They are travelling without weapons. And you know the code. I can’t cause any trouble unless they have weapons.”

“At least someone still upholds the code.” Calypso frowned down at the witch and wizard.

“How come you so far from home.” Her voice softened as she coo’ed at them.

“Treachery,” Hermione said. “Mischief against us.”

Calypso smiled indulgently. “Mischief against you? I think not. Mischief _for_ you, definitely.”

“Dare I ask if you can help us get home?”

Draco grabbed Hermione by the elbow and pulled her against his chest. “You can’t possibly think it’s sane to ask a goddess for help.”

“It's our only chance, Malfoy.”

“She’s going to kill us.”

“I hope not.”

Calypso frowned at them and jumped onto the deck of the dhow, glaring at the two.

“Whispering sweet nothings to each other? How saccharine. How endearing. How utterly pathetic!”

“I’ve already called them pathetic,” the Kraken pointed out.

“Shut up and go scare some cruise ships, you oversized seadog!” Calypso screamed at him, before turning back to Hermione and Draco.

She pulled Draco towards her, pressing her curves against him. “What is it about this womanly form that excites and disgusts you?”

“Well, the fish smell is off putting. But then again”—his eyes fell to her chest—“every man loves a pair of boobs.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco was going to get them annihilated.

“You are a poor liar,” Calypso purred into his ear. “Tell me the truth.”

“You have a spectacular chest,” Draco responded truthfully.

“And you are being purposely obtuse.” Calypso pushed away from him and grabbed Hermione around the waist. She pressed up behind her, Hermione’s back to her chest.

Calypso pulled a sharp fisherman’s knife out of nowhere and held it to Hermione’s neck.

“Lie to me one more time, and she will be punished.”

Draco’s hands clenched, the knuckles turning white.

“I don’t see how her death will affect me in any way.”

Calypso blinked. “You don’t care for the girl? Is she the one who broke your heart? Is she the one who blackened your soul?”

“No, but she did punch me once.”

“Malfoy! You are not helping!” Hermione hissed.

“Then tell me, if you do not care for her, then why are you out here alone with her?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. But look, she hasn’t been bad company, so I’d appreciate if you don’t kill her. I’d be terribly bored if you do.”

“Your insolence is unacceptable. I am the goddess of the ocean. I can tear your boat to pieces and be sure you join Davey Jones. Or I can send you a wind to fill your sails and send you where you came from.”

“The second option, please,” Hermione choked out as Calypso’s hold tightened on her.

“Silence!”

If the next words out of Calypsos mouth were ‘I kill you’, Hermione was going to stab herself in the neck.

“Young man, you do not belong on waters this pure. The Kraken is drawn to dark souls, and yours is the darkest I’ve seen in an age.”

“Yes, well, interning for the Dark Lord will have that affect on one’s soul, I imagine.”

“I have heard mutterings of this Dark Lord. There is always someone trying to fill the role of darkness. It is only right. There has to be a balance.” Calypso’s hold of Hermione had slackened. Hermione pushed the goddess away from her and ran to Draco.

“That is the vilest thing I’ve ever heard. He killed thousands of people,” she cried.

“Well, technically, he only killed a few. His followers…” Draco trailed off at Hermione’s glare.

“You opposed the Dark Lord?” Calypso tilted her head at Hermione.

“Of course.”

“And you didn’t?” She tilted her head to Draco.

“It’s not like I had any choice in the matter.”

Hermione scowled at Draco, turning to him, her arms crossed. “Of course you did. You decided not to choose, but to be a victim of mphrgh—”

Draco had pulled her into another kiss. Hermione found herself reluctant to pull away, but dammit, he was interrupting her.

“Little choice-less boy, you lied to me.” Calypsos smile was chilling. “Why do you insist on lying to me? I’m a goddess, with unlimited powers. I control the very waters beneath you.”

The pair ignored the goddess, glaring at each other instead.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Then you need to stop lecturing me.”

“We have bigger problems than me lecturing you.”

“Yes, but your incessant prattling diverts attention from the problem at hand, so I had to cut it short. Now, Granger, pull yourself together. We have a goddess to deal with.”

“Not much of a goddess if all she wants to do is talk. I say either destroy the boat in a huge storm or go find some proper pirates to irritate.”

“We both know there aren’t any proper pirates left, Granger. That’s why she’s annoying us.”

“I warned you about playing pirate earlier, but _nooooo_ , who cares that some goddess is going to show up and kill us.”

“Let’s not forget about the Kraken. I expected a bit more raw, knee trembling, awe inspiring power. Talk about a let-down.”

“Good thing the show was free, or I would have demanded my money back.”

“Will you two stop talking!!” Calypso shouted, stomping her foot on the deck. “I will not tolerate this insolence! You will be punished!”

She rose up off the deck of the ship and into the air, pulling the winds towards her until they made a massive hurricane above the small boat. The clouds gathered and the winds howled, filling the sail to bursting.

“Find something to tie yourself to!” Draco shouted at Hermione as the rain began to pummel them from above.

Calypso howled her indignant fury into the wind and sent the dhow crashing through the waves, bobbing like a cork in a toddler’s bath.

A huge wave swept over the dhow, clawing at Hermione as she tied herself to the railing. Draco was running towards her with a piece of rope, intending to do the same.

The wave knocked him off his feet and dragged him below the churning water.

Hermione screamed and dove in after him.

She surfaced, breathing in salty spray, seeing nothing but darkness as the hurricane blocked out the sun.

“Malfoy!” she screamed, coughing up sea water. ”Malfoy!”

The wind howled past her ears, deafening her. The rope around her waist tugged at her as the boat bobbed through the storm.

“Dammit! Malfoy! MALFOY!” she shouted, spitting out seawater as she swam toward the dhow.

Lightening lit up the storm, and for a few seconds, Hermione spotted Draco climbing up the side of the dhow, using some rope.

She began swimming towards the boat. It seemed the more she swam, the further the dhow moved away from her. Her arms were starting to give into exhaustion, the battering from the rain and the waves stealing her strength. With her last reserves, she started pulling herself towards the boat using the rope tied around her waist.

It suddenly began to move through her hands.

“Hold on tight!” she heard the wind whisper in her ear. She obeyed and felt herself being dragged through the water towards the dhow.

She hit the side of the dhow with a dull thump before she felt herself being lifted, her side scraping against the wood.

Strong arms circled her and pulled her over the railing, along the deck, and down some stairs into the cabin. She then succumbed to her exhaustion.

 

***

Hermione awoke with a groan. Her skin felt sticky, her back was a solid bruise, and her head was ready to burst.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Draco stepped down into the cabin and jumped onto the bed beside Hermione.

“Water?” He offered her a bottle.

She squinted up at him, took the water, and shuffled until she was sitting upright. She drained the bottle in a few gulps. Draco handed her a second bottle.

“How are we not dead?” she croaked. “And why isn’t the cabin flooded?”

“Clever magic on this boat. Turns out there’s a shield over the cabin entrance so its protected from the elements.” He cracked open a beer and took a long swig.

Hermione watched his throat bob, the events from the previous day floating through her mind. She giggled suddenly, choking on some water.

Draco leaned over and patted her back until her coughs subsided and morphed into laughter.

“What?” A smile played on his lips.

Hermione glanced at him and the laughter grew until she was curled up on her side, clutching her stomach.

“You…” she pointed at him, between giggles. “You threatened a Kraken with your cock!” With that, a fresh attack of laughter hit her, causing tears to run down her face.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” he sniffed, but he couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his lips.

“A Kraken!” Hermione kept laughing.

“Yes, well it worked, didn’t it? Now if you don’t stop laughing, I won’t show you my surprise.”

“If the surprise has anything to do with you dropping your pants, I’d rather keep laughing.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged and left the cabin.

After a few minutes, Hermione’s giggles finally faded away and she moved to leave the bed. Only then did she realise that under the sheets, she was starkers.

She wanted to blame Malfoy for her predicament, but logic won out. No sarong, no matter how carefully or tightly tied could stay on her after a swim in a stormy ocean. The fact that Malfoy didn’t even mention it or tease her was another surprise. But then again, Malfoy as a whole had been a surprise so far.

Speaking of surprises, she grabbed another sarong from the cupboard, tying it around her body and left the cabin.

“Malfoy, what’s this surp—“ Hermione stopped short.

The boat was deserted.

And beached.

“Malfoy!” she shouted, looking around. “Malfoy!”

Hermione ran to the railing and took in the beach: blinding white sand, towering up above her in huge dunes, stretching along the beach for nearly a kilometre in each direction.

“Surprise!” came a whisper close to her ear.

Hermione jumped, accidentally smacking Draco in the face.

“I’m sorry,” she winced, holding her hands close to her chest.

Draco was holding his nose, tears escaping his eyes. “Remind me never to sneak up on you.” He rubbed his nose and sniffed obnoxiously.

“You’ll live,” she said.

“But for how long?” He looked at the landscape in front of them.

“It doesn’t scream tropical island, does it?” She wrapped her arms around herself.

Draco lightly bumped her with his elbow. “Come on. Let’s go see what’s on the other side of that hill.”

With a rakish smirk, he grabbed hold of a rope and lowered himself overboard, onto the beach.

Being the more sensible one, Hermione raced back to the cabin and packed some bottles of water and some apples from their mysterious cooler box into a spare sarong before following Draco to the beach.

He was standing arms akimbo, looking up at the sand dunes.

“I say we go over,” he said as she joined him.

She looked down the beach and realised he was right. Hoisting the pack onto her shoulder, she began to climb the dune. Her feet sank into the sand up to her knees, forcing her to basically crawl up the hill.

When she was a few feet up, she looked over her shoulder to find Malfoy still standing on the beach looking up at her.

“What are you waiting for?” she called down to him.

She could see him say something.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he shouted back at her and began climbing the dune.

***

It was painful, sweaty work.

Hermione grimaced. She could feel the tiny grains embedding themselves in her hair as she brushed another loose strand out of her eyes.

They were halfway up the dune and yet they felt as if they’d been climbing for hours. Draco moved past Hermione, swatting her playfully on the bum. “Come along Granger,” he teased.

It reminded Hermione so starkly of Ginny and how much she missed home that she began to cry. Not big, heaving sobs. Just tears running down her cheeks, into the sand, followed by the occasional hiccup too soft for anyone to hear.

Even though her sight was blurry, her arms and legs were on fire, and she’d probably eaten a pound of sand, she kept climbing.

Draco wasn’t faring any better. The hangover that he’d managed to escape over the past few days had suddenly hit him. His head ached so badly, he wanted to curl up in a ball and wish for a swift death. But then he’d look up and see Granger’s rather delicious arse ahead of him, and some alpha male instinct would forced him to not abandon her here, not now. Possibly, not ever.

After what felt like ages, Hermione reached the crest of the dune and pulled herself up, the sand squeaking and slipping beneath her.

She gasped.

Draco heaved himself up to where she was sitting, frozen, staring out at the view.

He followed her gaze.

“I don’t think dropping your pants is going to get us out of this one.”

***

“Cannibals,” spat Draco. “Why are there always cannibals?”

He and Hermione were tied to a rather large totem pole in the middle of the village.

It turned out that the Dunes of Doom, as Draco had dubbed them, hid a tropical forest. The trees towered towards the sky, thick branches blocking out the azure sky. Fruit bowed the branches towards the ground. Birds filled the spaces in between, riots of bright colours and melodious calls.

In a clearing stood a small village. The inhabitants as colourful as the surroundings, their appetites not sated by the fresh fish or small game.

No, when Hermione and Draco accidentally interrupted a hunt on the dunes, they became the prize catch.

“Malfoy, we’ve discovered a lost race. The anthropological value is immeasurable.”

“You can take your anthropological value and shove it—“

“Besides, they’re not actually going to eat us. It’s just a ritual, of sorts.” Hermione gulped, not really believing her own words.

“Granger, stop talking. Can you feel my fingers?”

The totem they were tied to was as wide as Hagrid and almost ten feet tall.

Their hands were at their sides, ropes coiled around them from waist to shoulder.

Hermione stretched her hands backwards, palms skimming along the roughly carved wood. Her muscles screamed in protest at the awkward angle.

“I can’t. Sorry,” she sighed, her arms returning to her sides. The ropes were too tight to squirm, let alone move. “Where did cannibals on a deserted island get rope?”

“Are you really asking that? Now?” Draco’s voice was edged with panic. “Stop being a boffin and start thinking of a way to get free.”

A group of men and women approached to Totem Pole, weapons trained at the couple. They untied the rope and while the men pulled Draco away with them, the women herded Hermione into a hut.

When they were escorted out a few minutes later, the two caught sight of each other.

“I’d say your makeover was a bit of a disaster,” Draco said as they were led up to a platform.

Hermione grimaced at the turn-of-the-century dress she’d been forced into. Her hair was tied up in a complicated up-do and her makeup was rudimentary at best.

“I think they pulled the corpse out of it a few minutes ago. But you’re one to talk; I don’t think yellow is your colour.”

Draco had been put into a loincloth, and painted yellow from top to toe.

He shrugged. ”Never wanted to die in tuxedo robes anyway.”

“I would have preferred something a little less vintage myself.”

With arrows and spears pointed at their vital organs, the pair stood on the platform while the chief, or at least the man with the massive headdress began chanting and gesturing wildly at the sun, the trees, the hostages and a massive pit filled with glowing coals.

The crowd joined in with the chanting, growing louder and louder until it was deafening.

“Draco Malfoy!” A screech tore through the noise, making the crowd freeze and look around in wonder.

Narcissa Malfoy stomped into the village from the jungle, wand raised and followed by some disgruntled looking wizards.

“Mother?” Draco visibly squirmed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His mother marched through the cannibals, pushed the chieftain aside, and raced up to the platform.

“It’s a long story. What are you doing here?” Draco narrowed his eyes.

“We can discuss that later. Now, come off that platform, and let’s leave the locals to their celebrations.”

The wizards had formed a defensive line in front of the platform, wands raised.

One cannibal, who felt that this intrusion was robbing him of a solid meal, raced forward.

“Stupefy!” the wizards shouted as one, and a bright red blaze of magic shot from their wands and pushed the cannibal into the leaves.

The rest of the crowd began to quiver and lower their weapons.

As Draco passed Hermione, he grabbed her hand. “Come along, Granger. Mother has spoken.”

Hermione was still sputtering, her mind reeling at the sudden turn of events.

“Right, boys, Side-Along-Apparition, if you please.”

With a swirl and a pop, the group of wizards and witches disappeared.

 

***

Two weeks later…

Hermione was sitting at her desk, watching the rain pound against the windows of her office. Outside, London was pixelated into shades of grey.

She closed her eyes, imagining she was back on the boat. The sun shining down, warming her skin, while the rhythm of waves lapped against the wood and put her to sleep.

Clive suddenly burst into her office, banging the door behind him.

“Hermione, Hermione! There is a Greek god of a man outside wanting to see you.” He was panting in his haste.

“Greek god? Clive, what are you on about?”

“Tall, blonde, roguishly good-looking.”

“I think he means me.” Draco stood in the open doorway. Clive blushed a bright red.

Hermione tried to fight the smile that spread across her lips. Draco answered it with a smirk.

“Tell your assistant to make himself scarce,” Draco said, indicating to Clive with a slight bow of his head.

Clive’s eyes widened as he looked at Hermione. She nodded and made a small shooing motion at him. Clive scuttled out, trying to not push himself against Draco in an obvious way as he left the office.

With a chuckle, Draco took a seat across from Hermione.

“So, I’ve heard about this support group for people who have been through traumatic experiences together.”

“I wouldn’t say being shipwrecked with me is traumatising.”

“Indeed, it isn’t, but being rescued by one’s own mother is very damaging to my image as a fully capable adult male wizard.”

“Has she stopped teasing you yet?”

“No. Much worse. She’s invited us to join her little expedition team. They’re heading off to Central Africa next week.”

“Sounds terribly dangerous.”

“It’s very dangerous,” he smirked, leaving his chair to walk around her desks, turning her to face him. “Shall I explain the dangers over dinner?”

Hermione placed her hands on the lapels of his jacket, running them slowly up to his shoulders. “Dinner may be too late. But I’m free for lunch.”

“Italian?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Make it take-away and we have a date.”

“Deal.” He leaned in and kissed her.

 

The End

 

***

 

Epilogue

Harry choked on his cup of coffee.

“She’s where?” he spluttered as his wife sat across the breakfast table from him buttering toast.

“Central Africa. With Malfoy. And Malfoy’s mother. It seems she has taken up exploring the world as therapy.”

“Real Livingrock and Stanley-type stuff, apparently,” added George, heaping bacon onto his plate.

“It’s Livingstone,” Harry automatically corrected, before glaring at Ginny. “I’m sorry, I must have hit my head one too many times. So please, explain it to me. Carefully.”

With a sigh, Ginny placed a piece of buttered toast on his plate, licked some stray spread from her thumb, and added some honey to her tea.

“You’re stalling,” Harry pointed out.

“She’s probably done something that’ll upset you,” George whispered, leaning over.

“Ginny…”

“Fine, Harry. Just don’t say a thing until I’m done.” She sipped some tea. “Clive and I were chatting when he mentioned how Hermione wasn’t dating and needed some time off. So I thought it would be great to send her on holiday. Except, the wizard at the shop got the order wrong and made two, and somehow one ended up with Malfoy. I suspect Clive was behind that. Anyway, Narcissa has taken to exploring different regions of the world to ‘broaden her outlook on the point of existence’ or something stupid like that. It was purely coincidental that she came across them. I had no idea they’d run into trouble. It was supposed to be a pleasure cruise.”

Ginny had the good sense to look contrite.

Harry drained his coffee, placed the cup on the table softly and leaned back.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, a naughty glint in his eye. “We should go on a cruise. Our anniversary is coming up anyway.”

“So, you’re not upset?” George kept a weary eye on Harry, who, in all honesty, just looked tired.

“I should be, but I’m not. Come on, I have to get to work.” With that, he slipped out of his seat, gave Ginny a kiss on the cheek, and disappeared through the Floo.

 


End file.
